Currently untitled
by callandra
Summary: Quinn finds more than he bargained for on a job. Then Eliot gets involved. Warning: contains brief mention, though nothing graphic, of what only the most optimistic could term dubious consent. Not slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This one has absolutely nothing to do with Family Ties, but it popped in my head and wouldn't leave, no matter how nicely I asked, so I figured I should probably write go ahead and get it down. Just like with everything else, I don't promise I can update it regularly, but I've never abandoned a story. Usual disclaimers apply: if you saw it on TV, I don't own it. That's the only disclaimer you're getting, as it applies to the entire story. Review, review, review!**

Quinn was more than a little tired of dealing with the man in front of him. He'd taken the job as a favor to an old friend, but he was ready to kill this Andrew Harker and just walk away. Screw the favor. He should have just called in the marker Eliot Spencer owed him.

"Look Harker, it's simple. I delivered the item you asked for, and you will pay me what we agreed on. If you don't, I will take your precious little carving with me, and I'll let the people currently missing it know exactly who wanted it stolen."

It was bad business to let someone cheat him out of what had been promised. Let one get away with it and everyone would try it. Quinn wasn't about to let that happen.

"Let's not be hasty, Mr. Quinn. I'm sure that we can work something out."

"We'll work out fine as soon as you pay me. Everything."

"I will have the money wired to your account."

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I'm afraid the storm has closed down the airport for the night. Allow me to extend the hospitality of the house. We can have you to the airport first thing in the morning."

Quinn hated the idea of spending a single night under the roof with this man. Something about Andrew Harker just made his skin crawl. And it wasn't just the fact that Harker had hit on him the moment they were alone. But the storm had been raging for nearly an hour with no sign of letting up, and the airport was the only way off the island. No boat would even consider launching in seas this rough. He reluctantly agreed to stay, and Harker made a quick phone call. A short time later they were walking hallways until Harker came to a stop in front of a door and pushed it open.

"I'm sure you'll be comfortable in here."

Quinn turned on the light and froze. A woman was sitting on the bed, hands and feet cuffed.

"What is this?"

Harker offered him a small key, presumably for the cuffs. The woman glared at both of them, giving them several anatomically impossible suggestions for how they spend their time.

"I thought perhaps you might prefer a different playmate, since you didn't seem interested in what I was offering. I like to watch as well."

Was he really suggesting….? The expectant look told Quinn that was exactly what Harker was suggesting.

"Well, I'm no exhibitionist, so as tempting as the offer is; I think I'll have to pass."

It was rare that Quinn turned down a night with a woman, but they were always willing. He didn't hold with rape. And the fact that this woman was in restraints was evidence that she wasn't here of her own volition.

"That's a pity. I have no other interest in keeping her here, so if you don't want her, I'll just have to give my men their chance before they get rid of her."

"Get rid of her?"

Harker nodded, and Quinn bit back a curse. He couldn't afford to lose his temper now, not when he was hours away from being able to get off the island. Besides, he knew Harker hadn't wired his money yet; if the man died now, he wouldn't get paid.

"Come now, Mister Quinn. How difficult can it be to take a beautiful woman to bed?"

Quinn held out his hand for the key, which Harker gave to him with a smile.

"Just so you know, I'll be evaluating your performance. And I will know if you're faking it."

Now Quinn really just wanted to kill the man. He'd bedded women in pursuit of a job, but this was ridiculous. If he found out that Harker was somehow recording this, there was no consideration in the world that would keep him from killing the man.

He approached the bed hesitantly. It was a giant four poster monstrosity, but fortunately it did have nearly sheer curtains. They would at least give him the illusion of privacy. The woman was watching him warily. He thought she was right to be worried. He caught her as she tried to scoot away the moment he sat on the bed.

"Calm down now," he ordered as he worked on freeing her from the restraints. He was talking softly enough that he was reasonable sure Harker couldn't hear him. The woman stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"I don't want to hurt you," he informed her, abstractly noting that she was indeed beautiful, "but if we don't do this now, he will have his people kill you. If you don't fight me, I will make this as painless and as quick as possible. Nod your head if you understand me."

She nodded, and Quinn pulled the unlocked cuffs from her wrists and ankles. He was surprised when she actually head butted him and lunged off the bed. He lunged right after her, not wanting to watch Harker kill her in front of him. Killing for business was one thing, but this would just be murder.

"Oh no you don't!"

He caught her around the waist and easily hauled her back onto the bed as she tried to gouge his eyes out. So much for doing a good deed. When she kicked at a rather personal area, he reluctantly grabbed the cuffs and shackled a wrist to one of the posts, climbing on her to pin her legs down. She bucked underneath him, trying to dislodge him, but he was much heavier than she was so he just waited for her to tire herself out as he leaned to close the curtains. Harker was going to be sadly disappointed if he thought he was going to see anything more than silhouette.

"Don't tell me you're shy, Mr. Quinn."

He ignored Harker's heckling as he focused on the woman he held pinned. She looked close to hyperventilating; her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"I don't want to hurt you, girl. Stop fighting me and let's just get through this," he tried to reason as he reached under her to pull down the bedding.

"He's going to kill us both anyway, and I'll be damned if I spend my last night playing to this sick bastard's wishes!" she hissed as she tried to bite him. She managed to sink her teeth into his hand, drawing blood. It wasn't as painful so much as it was—his lower body was suddenly much more interesting in the proceedings. Quinn grabbed her free had as she tried to take a swing at him, her struggles renewed as his body physically reacted.

Quinn was less than pleased at the knowledge that this poor girl shared his suspicions that Harker had no intention of just letting them go. He'd begun to suspect a double cross as soon as there was an issue with the agreed payment. He'd had a plan already forming for dealing with that contingency, but that plan was shot with the addition of this woman. He couldn't just leave her here when Harker already said he had no intention of keeping her (though he wondered if Harker really meant that or if he was just trying to provoke him into raping the girl). There were lines he just did not cross, and his mama would have his ass if she found out he even entertained the thought of abandoning this girl.

He kicked off his shoes, and pulled the sheet up over them both. He would be damned if he gave Harker even a hint of him stripping either his own clothes or the girls'. He ignored the girl hitting him as she shrugged out of his suit jacket and unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt. He wasn't exactly into erotic asphyxiation.

"What's your name?" he asked as he shed his pants and lay down; half on top of the girl, still keeping her legs pinned so she couldn't kick him.

"Go to hell!"

"Alright, Go to Hell, listen to me for just a second and stop trying to cripple me. We're both in the same situation here, and I'd say it's in your best interest to cooperate."

"Hardly! You're not the one cuffed to a damn bed!"

He covered her mouth with a hand when she started yelling obscenities at him again, and bit back a few curses of his own when she bit him again.

"I'm not a patient man, Mr. Quinn," Harker called from his seat, and they both stilled, "If it's too difficult for you, I'll have one of my men take care of it."

"I don't like an audience, Harker!" he answered back, "If you insist on being here shut the hell up and sit there and wait! Or do something useful like wire my money!"

Now she was staring at him, eyes wide. She was clearly terrified of him, a fact he didn't appreciate. He didn't move his hand as he leaned so that he was speaking at her ear, hesitant to have her start up again.

"Now listen carefully. I don't intend to hurt you. I don't WANT to do this. Now if you stop fighting and cooperate, I will get us both out of here, and I will get you home. Nod if you understand me."

She nodded and he carefully removed his hand, using it to reach for the key to the cuffs when she didn't try to attack him again. Maybe she would see reason now. He hoped so; he really didn't want to hurt her.

"Good. Now close your eyes, and imagine whoever you have to in order to get through this. I will make this as easy and as fast as possible."

She nodded again, which he took as permission to continue; or as close to permission as he would get. No matter what some men thought, no woman ever gave permission to be raped. Most that stopped fighting did so in order to survive. After brushing a stray hair from her face, he unshackled her wrist and let the handcuff fall to the floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You didn't tell me your name," Quinn reminded the woman he held loosely in his arms. That he as her violator was the only person available to offer any comfort was a fact he just found sickening and so wrong on so many levels. He'd done his best to make sure he didn't hurt her, but the tears had started almost immediately and were only beginning to let up. Harker had stayed the entire time, leaving only once Quinn was completely spent.

"I can hardly call you 'Go to Hell' now, can I?"

"Kirsten," she answered with a shaky giggle as she wiped tears away.

"Nice to meet you Kirsten. Although I think we could wish for a better introduction. I mean what I said: I'm going to get us both out of here, and I'll take you wherever you want to go."

"He's not going to let us just waltz out of here."

"I can handle anything he might send through that door. You just need to be ready when I tell you. We have to wait until we can get off the island before I make a move."

Kirsten started to pull away, and Quinn let her go. He considered it a small victory that she hadn't attacked him again. Now that Harker was gone he had time to wonder how this young woman ended up here. She didn't look like the type to actually be involved with Andrew Harker's idea of "business".

"Where're you going?" he asked when she slid out of the bed. It looked like the crying jag was over for the moment; a good sign.

"If we have to wait to leave, I really need a shower."

The chemise she'd been wearing slid back down her body as she stood, Quinn idly noticed as she headed for what he assumed was a bathroom. It wasn't a surprise that she would want to scrub the feel of what he'd done off her body, and he silently warned his inner insensitive bastard to shut the hell up. He had no right to be put out that she didn't seem to appreciate his saving her life. Now that she'd mentioned it, he kind of felt the need to shower too.

He waited, semi-patiently, for forty-five minutes before worry started to set in. Even if she scrubbed her body until she drew blood, it shouldn't take THAT long, and she wasn't the only one in need of the bathroom. Was she just trying to avoid him? Was she worried that he'd attack her again?

"Kirsten?" He knocked on the door, but received no answer. "Kirsten, are you okay in there?"

He knocked again, more insistently, after getting only silence.

"Kirsten, if you don't answer me I'm coming in. Are you alright?"

When he still heard nothing but the sound of running water, he tried the door knob and discovered it opened. Hoping he wasn't about to walk in on her, he cautiously stepped inside. Well, she wasn't shrieking at him to get out, but almost would have preferred that to her utter silence. He didn't even hear the sounds of her washing.

"Kirsten?"

He was very hesitant in opening the curtain, giving her every chance to respond. What he saw was enough to make him freeze. She was sitting on the floor of the shower, knees drawn into her chest, not appearing to even notice that the water pelting her was freezing cold. He immediately shut off the water and reached for a towel, draping it around her.

The contact startled her out of her stupor, and she immediately flew at him. Quinn didn't make a move to stop her, only moving to ward off blows that would cause real damage. He just let her work her very justified anger out on his body. Eventually she tired out, and Quinn grabbed the forgotten towel and wrapped it around her. She slapped his hand when he tried to tuck in a corner so that it stayed closed.

"Get dressed, Kirsten. I'll be outside."

She emerged several minutes later, wearing the same silky chemise she'd been wearing before. Quinn had assumed that was something Harker had put her in, but now he had to wonder. She eyed him warily as he stared at her.

"Is that all you have to wear?"

He wasn't one to complain about a beautiful woman in lingerie, but that would draw a lot of unwanted attention at the airport.

"Yeah, 'cause you're in such better shape right now."

Her comment drew his attention to the fact that he still hadn't put his pants back on, so he stood in his half-buttoned shirt, boxers, and socks.

"Fair enough."

He picked up his jacket from the floor and handed it to her as he slipped into his pants. She seemed to relax ever so minutely when he was fully clothed and she had slightly more to cover her. He was going to have to do something about her clothes before they got on a plane.

'Next time I'm kidnapped I'll ask for time to get changed first."

He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud.

"You should get some rest, Kirsten."

"What about you? You're no good to anyone if you're passed out."

"Get some sleep. I'll be fine."

He would have liked to get some rest, but he couldn't chance being asleep when Harker's men came to kill them. Kirsten was in no shape to keep watch for them. He'd be fine; he'd gone much longer without sleep before.

L-L-L

It was almost three in the morning when they came. Quinn had to shake his head at their amateur moves. They went straight for the bed where Kirsten laid sleeping, and the shaft of light from the bathroom door, but didn't check for any other threat. And Harker only sent two men? He was insulted.

He punched the one that stopped within six inches of him, putting him down with the blow that broke a rib. It was just icing on the cake that he got to kick him in the head, knocking him out. The commotion drew the attention of the other, who abandoned his trek to the bed. Quinn had to dive out of the way as the bullets started flying in his direction. From his position on the floor he was able to knock his opponent's feet out from under him. It had been awhile since he'd been in a good old-fashioned brawl. This one was only slightly harder to put down. It really wasn't fair; they were already down when he was just getting worked up.

"Quinn?"

Right. It was almost pitch dark out, thanks to the storm. Kirsten wouldn't have been able to see much of anything.

"I'm fine."

He was fine, and he was done. The fact that Kirsten had been right about men coming to kill them meant that Harker hadn't wired his money. He was going to find the man, make sure his money was transferred, and then he was going to take great pleasure in taking the man apart. The storm was starting to slack off enough that they could get to the airport.

"Come with me."

It would be easier to just leave her here while he dealt with Harker, but he couldn't take the chance that more killers might show up. Kirsten slid out of the bed, pulling his coat tightly closed around her. He knew the layout of the house from extensive studying, so finding Harker's room was no difficulty. When they stood outside the door, he handed one of the guns he'd lifted from their would-be assassins to Kirsten.

"If anyone other than me comes back through this door, pull the trigger."

She nodded, and he slipped inside. He found Harker in bed asleep, a woman curled up beside him. Quinn pulled the other liberated weapon from his pants and turned the safety off, pointing it at Harker's head before turning on the bedside lamp.

"What the-?" Harker blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light.

"You missed."

He lifted the man's cell phone from the bedside table and tossed it on the bed.

"Now call your people and have my money wired. And I suggest it before my trigger gets too itchy."

It was gratifying to watch Harker immediately hit a button with trembling hands. After only a few rings the call was picked up.

"That money to Zurich: send it now. All of it."

Quinn waited until he heard the voice on the other end confirm the transfer before he took the phone away.

"You really should know better than to double cross your contractors, Harker. It's bad for business."

With that he pulled the trigger, the silencer doing its job. The woman beside Harker didn't stir. Quinn backed out of the room and grabbed Kirsten by the arm.

"Time to get out of here."

"Did you kill him?"

"Do you really want the answer to that?"

She didn't say anything else as they carefully made their way to the car barn. Harker's love for cars as status symbols was incredibly useful in getting away. Quinn didn't make a habit of stealing cars, but he knew how to do it. That skill would prove useful since his rental was nowhere to be found.

Rather than taking one of the flashy sports cars that filled the barn, Quinn headed for the sedans that had to be the everyday vehicles that Harker's employees used. They were much easier to break into. In no time at all he had the driver's side door open and was able to unlock all the doors. Kirsten quickly slid into the passenger seat as he hotwired the ignition. With any luck they would be lost among the travelers at the airport before Harker's woman ever woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

"A message for you."

Damien accepted the USB drive through the bars of the cell, and plugged it into his tablet. There was no internet in the prison, but he'd been able to retain the computer which had quickly become his only source of books and information. The tablet was inspected every day for content, but there were still a few guards loyal to him who smuggled flash drives that he was able to keep hidden. It was invaluable as the only way to maintain communication with his people outside. Not all of them had deserted him as quickly as Ribera had.

Ribera. Now there was a man Damien would love to strangle with his own necktie. The man had sold him out for the promise of riches and an unthreatened retirement. The joke had been on the former president. Damien remembered with pleasure the rage the other man had been in when he came to the tombs to make his threats. The one thing everyone seemed to forget was that he always had a backup plan. Those promised riches were nothing more than an illusion for the other man. Ribera would never get a dime that had belonged to him.

Curious as to what message he could be receiving since he wasn't expecting any, Damien loaded the drive into the port. It was a video file, but there was no note telling him who sent it. Perhaps it was from one of his girls? Three so far had sent videos of a private nature on a semi-regular basis, but it had been three months since he'd had one. The enforced celibacy of his solitary confinement didn't sit well with him.

Hopeful that he had something to look forward to he hit the "play" icon settled on his bunk. That hope descended to dawning horror as he watched the video.

"No!"

He watched them carry her from her house, seemingly unconscious. How did those bastards find her?! She was completely off the grid; she didn't even have a facebook account! She used her grandmother's name so that there was no connection to him! How did anyone know who she was?!

The next scene showed her cuffed on a bed, a man approaching her. He didn't recognize the man, but as soon as he discovered who it was, they were dead. He couldn't look away as she tried to make her escape only to be caught and cuffed to the bed. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he could only assume it was some major threat for her to give up fighting.

He could watch no longer, and flung the tablet away from him. It skidded to the floor with a loud crash, and he hurried to remove and conceal the USB drive as the guards came running. One of them, a young man only promoted to the position of guard under Vittori's administration, glared at him in contempt before taunting him about breaking his toys. Damien resisted the urge to reach through the bars and choke him. The other guard, the same one who'd brought him the drive, waited until his companion left.

"Who sent this message?" Damien demanded softly as soon as their audience was gone.

"I don't know. It came to your email as all messages do, and I downloaded it without opening it, like always. The sender wasn't any name I recognized."

"I have to get out of here, immediately."

The only reason he'd stayed in prison so long was to keep her safe. If he'd broken out, everyone would be looking for him, or for any trail that led to him. But if she was in this type of danger despite his cooperation, his cooperation was over.

"I'll work on it, Sir."

He would work on it. Sanchez was most loyal; he owed Damien his life. Damien wasn't worried that Sanchez wouldn't get him out; he only worried that they wouldn't e in time to save her.

"And get me in touch with Eliot Spencer. That is your highest priority. I need to talk to Spencer this moment!"

Eliot was supposed to watch over her. It was part of the deal he made with the man to stay behind bars, and Spencer honored his promises. Even if he hated Damien (and Damien could admit that there was good reason for that) he wouldn't just abandon her. Something must have happened. He just hoped that Eliot wasn't dead.

XXXXXXXXX

"Damn it, speak English! My head hurts too much to figure out your Croatian!"

To say that Eliot was unhappy at being woken in the middle of the night when a migraine had just put him down was an understatement. Then to find that the caller was Damien Moreau, a man who wasn't allowed a cell phone just made it worse. And the man didn't even have the decency to speak English? It was too early for this mess. All he wanted to do was hang up the phone and go back to sleep.

"Slow down! What do you mean she's gone?"

He had to hold the phone away from his ear as Damien yelled at him.

"Calm down! I just saw her two days ago and she was fine, so tell me how you know she's gone! Give me your email account and password, and I'll check it out."

As soon as he hung up he immediately made another call, but it didn't pick up. He tried again as he pulled up Damien's email, but it still went to voice mail. When he opened the message in question, he stopped trying to call.

It was her alright. There was no mistaking her. He didn't know the men breaking into her house, but he would find out. The room she was in wasn't at all familiar either. It didn't look like any house he'd ever been inside. He was going to visit Hardison and have the hacker work on tracing the email.

He froze, and almost broke his laptop in his growing rage. He recognized the man climbing into the bed. Quinn was a dead man when he found him. Eliot forced himself to watch to the end and was sickened at what he saw. But Quinn hadn't killed her, so there was hope he would still find her alive. He didn't even bother to turn off his laptop before he grabbed his keys a headed out the door.

L-L-L-L

Finding a pilot willing to fly them to the States had been ridiculously easy once Quinn showed them the cash he had on hand. U.S. currency still worked wonders on the island. He managed to get Kirsten on the plane and into the air before the sun even came up.

It wasn't the most comfortable private plane, considering that it was designed for cargo rather than passengers. Still, it would serve its purpose in getting them back to the U.S. and then getting Kirsten home. He would head back to his ranch for a few days while he considered which offer he wanted to accept next. Or maybe he'd take some time off and take care of things around the ranch.

He'd left the girl to get as comfortable as possible on the small cots that were set up in the corner. He still had things to work out, like getting her into the country without a passport. If worse came to worse he could always just land on the airstrip on the ranch, but if she ever told him where she wanted to go he would have to be a bit more creative.

The co-pilot handed him a cup of coffee that he accepted with thanks. He wasn't going to let himself sleep until he was in his own bed. He was sure they'd gotten away clear, but that didn't mean much.

"We'll be entering US airspace soon, so you might want to let Andre know where you want to go so we can change the flight plan."

Quinn took a long sip of the steaming coffee before answering him.

"I'll find out."

He was hesitant to disturb Kirsten, who looked to be finally asleep, but he carefully nudged her awake.

"Where do you want me to take you? We need to let the pilot know where to land."

"Just let me off when we get back to the States. I'll make my own way home."

She tried to roll over and ignore him, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"I'm not just dropping you off. I said I'd get you home, and I meant it."

"I'm not about to tell some random stranger where I live! I really don't give a rat's butt where we land, now let me get some sleep!"

For all that she was mumbling, Quinn heard the order in her words. He could even understand her wariness after what she'd just been through. Considering that she was already back to sleep, he made the decision to take her back to his ranch. Once they landed, he could figure out how to get her home. He headed back to the cockpit to tell the pilots to head to Colorado, and then made himself as comfortable as he could on the tiny cot that was far too small for his frame.

A few hours later he was shaking Kirsten awake. He envied her ability to fall asleep so easily in an unfamiliar situation.

"We're landing in a few minutes."

"Where are we?"

"We're heading to my house. Once we get there you can make whatever phone calls you need, and I'll take you where you want to go."

She stretched as she sat up, and Quinn looked away when the hem of her nightgown started ride up with the stretch. They strapped into the safety harnesses for the landing, and he noted how tightly she held on. It wasn't the grip of someone just bracing for the landing. Her eyes were screwed shut.

"You okay?"

"I'm not a fan of flying."

If it was a random stranger he wouldn't check the urge to offer a squeeze of the arm in comfort. As it was, he doubted she'd appreciate it. He'd only touched her when necessary.

"It's almost over. Deep breaths help," he offered when she looked near hyperventilating. The plane shook slightly s the landing gear lowered, and one hand shot out and grabbed his arm in a bruising grip. After that he gave into the impulse to lay his hand on top of hers, and was surprised when she didn't jerk away.

As soon as the plane powered down Quinn released his harness before freeing Kirsten from hers. The door ended up being a pain in the ass to wrench open, but he finally managed it before pushing Kirsten behind him as a number of weapons were pointed at them. Seconds later the one directly in his face was lowered and he heard "It's the boss, stand down" circulating through the group standing outside the plane as the guns were lowered.

"You should have let us know you were coming; we'd have everything ready for you."

"Last minute decision, Randall," Quinn answered as he descended, keeping a hand on Kirsten's arm, a silent but telling gesture to his men that she was considered safe. Randall took one look at the young woman's disheveled state and bit back the questions he was dying to ask.

"Jack'll drive you back to the main house. And I'll send Sarah over to help with your guest. Alright boys, get back to what you're supposed to be doing!"

And just like that, all the curious looks directed their way were turned elsewhere as the welcoming committee went back to their work. Quinn guided Kirsten to the jeep waiting for them. Randall left them with a respectful nod and a "Ma'am", before the vehicle started moving. Quinn was surprised when his guest didn't say anything about the scene they'd just walked through. The drive to the house was made in silence.

He honestly wasn't surprised to see Sarah waiting for them on the porch. The house she and Randall occupied was closer to the main house than the airstrip, and Randall would have called her before they even disappeared from his view. He wasn't even overly surprised to see a laundry basket on her hip; odds weren't against her already being in the main house taking care of the day's chores.

"Mr. Quinn," she greeted them, giving Kirsten no more than a curious glance, "Randall said we had a visitor. Your room is ready, and I have the yellow room set up for your guest."

Quinn just thanked her, not feeling the need to explain Kirsten wouldn't be staying long enough to need a guest room. He fully expected to be on the road in less than an hour, taking her somewhere to meet her family. He gestured for Kirsten to precede him into the house and once she was inside he quietly asked Sarah to see if she couldn't found up something clean for her to wear. Faithful employee that she was, she didn't question the order; she just nodded her acceptance and said she'd be back. As soon as she was gone Quinn turned his attention to his guest, who was looking around the living room.

"Fancy house for a hit man," was her only comment when he finally joined her.

"What makes you think I'm a hit man?"

"A man with your abilities and that much disposable cash? Please don't insult my intelligence."

He gaped at her for a full second as she continued to look around the room before he came to his senses. He knew his cell phone would be dead at the moment, so he reached for the land line, grabbing the cordless phone and handing it to her.

"You should call your family and let them know you're alright. Just let me know where to take you once you're ready."

She nodded absently as she took the phone, but actually paid attention when he didn't let go.

"I wouldn't blame you if you hate my guts for what happened, but if you could tell your family not to bring their shot guns, I'd appreciate it."

He couldn't imagine what this woman's parents were going through if they knew she was missing, but he knew what he'd do if it was one of his sisters. He wouldn't be likely to thank the man who raped her for bringing her home. That man would find himself in a shallow grave.

"I don't have any family."

Well he was expecting to hear that. He let go of the phone in surprise, and she started punching in numbers.

"Who are you calling then?"

It really wasn't his business, he knew. He just couldn't help asking. She just looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm calling a friend. And guns aren't what you need to worry about with him."

For some reason that comment set him on edge. He knew someone else who didn't like guns, and he was lethal without them. That sinking feeling was validated when she finally spoke to someone on the other end of the line.

"Eliot, it's me."

He could hear Spencer's growl through the speaker. He was so dead. He'd hurt someone Eliot Spencer held dear. He doubted that even Spencer's team would be able to persuade him not to kill. Quinn rather wished he was just dealing with a pissed off father.

"Eliot, I'm alright."

Quinn stepped away to allow Kirsten to have her conversation in private. As a result, Eliot's side of the discussion was indistinct. He had no idea whether Kirsten was trying to calm Spencer down or helping the older hitter plot his demise.

"He wants to talk to you," he was startled when the phone was thrust under his nose. He took it hesitantly, holding it slightly away from his ear in case Spencer started yelling his threats.

"When I find you, I'm going to skin you alive, if you don't let her go right now."

"She's not my prisoner, Eliot. I told her I'd take her home, but she declined to tell me where that is. Tell me where to meet you and I'll bring her to you."

He didn't know where Spencer was living anymore, or he'd put Kirsten in his truck this second and start driving. He knew that crews setup in Boston was burned after the job he'd helped with, but he didn't know where they'd set up shop after that.

"Where are you right now?"

Shit. He didn't particularly want to invite Eliot Spencer to his home. Not when he knew without a doubt the man would be out for blood.

"Where are you?"

"Don't mess with me, boy."

Boy? Did Spencer really just call him boy? Quinn opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of what he was going to say. Tempers were already high and things could escalate all too quickly. No one needed that, least of all Kirsten.

"We're in Colorado."

He gave the address and was surprised when Spencer said he'd be there the next day.

"And if she tells me you so much as laid a finger on her between now and then, you'll wish for death."

Spencer ended the call before he could answer, and Quinn was left staring at the phone. Well that could have gone better.

"You know Eliot?"

'We've crossed paths before. He'll be here some time tomorrow. You want me to get a doctor out here to check you over?"

He'd noticed the pained expression and limp she'd tried to hide. He had no idea how Harker or his men might have treated her when they took her. He didn't THINK he was responsible for it, but he knew he could be wrong.

"It won't be necessary."

"If you change your mind, let me know. I'll get someone out here for you."

He wouldn't push her to see a doctor if she didn't think she need it; he'd leave that to Eliot. They were interrupted by the front door opening and Sarah walked in, a basket of clothes in her hands. Quinn gestured to Kirsten and left the two women alone. He had things he should take care of before Eliot Spencer arrived on his door step.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Emily was surprised at how well the things brought by the woman who'd introduced herself as Sarah fit. The boots were a little big, but not enough to cause her problems, and the clothes were just her size; even the sports bra. When she asked where the clothes had come, hoping they weren't castoffs from the last woman this Quinn had living here, she'd been told they belonged to Sarah's oldest daughter, currently on her honeymoon in Maui. Her habit of buying clothes and then forgetting she had them meant that everything was practically new. That made Emily feel a little better about accepting them; knowing she wasn't taking something someone might need.

She was surprised to find that Quinn had left her alone in the house. After hearing him say he'd crossed paths with Eliot, she was certain that he was indeed a hitter. A hitter didn't just let a complete stranger roam their home. How would he know she wasn't looking for some way to hurt him? There was no such thing as paranoia when you were a hitter. She knew that from Eliot.

She was curious about this ranch. How did a hit man, who by virtue of his chosen profession was constantly travelling, come to own a ranch that required more attention than he could possibly give it? And why bother with another occupation if he owned a place like this? It was one thing to own property that required a bit of upkeep, but to own an actual working ranch that required constant attendance?

"If you'd care to see the stables, turn left and keep going. They're only about a quarter mile away," Sarah informed her when she saw her step onto the veranda. Emily wasn't too sure how Quinn would feel about her wandering his property, but she liked the idea of visiting the stables. She hadn't been to a stable in almost a year, and horses were possibly her favorite animal. If Quinn wanted to bitch about it later, he could.

She found her way easily to the stables; they were just where Sarah had pointed her. She was surprised at the number of stalls, nearly all of which had a name on the plate. A good number of them were empty; doubtless they housed the horses ridden by all those men who'd pointed guns at the plane.

There were a few horses still in their stalls, and Emily was drawn to a red and white paint that stuck its head out at the sound of her entry. The animal whinnied softly as she reached out to stroke its head and scratch between its ears.

"Aren't you a beauty?"

"His name's Forest and he's a flirt."

She turned, startled, to see Quinn standing in the doorway of what looked like a tack room. She dropped her hand guiltily, and the horse nudged her.

"I didn't mean to disturb anything."

"You're not. You're a guest, Kirsten not a prisoner. You're not confined to your room until Eliot shows up. You're welcome to visit any area of the ranch except the bunkhouses."

"You're awful trusting of a complete stranger," she commented as she resumed scratching Forest between the ears. To her surprise he actually chuckled at that.

"If you think you can kill me you're welcome to try."

She had to smile at that. He was right; he had very little to fear from her. She hadn't let Eliot or Damien teach her to use a gun, and the little self defense training she'd retained wouldn't exactly put Quinn down.

"I guess you're safe enough, at least until Eliot gets here."

The shadow that fell across Quinn's face almost made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut. She wasn't happy about being on his property when she'd told him to just drop her off and let her make her own way home, but she shouldn't antagonize him. He'd kept his word and brought her back to the States. He'd killed the man who started this whole mess, even if it had been for his own reasons. And he hadn't made so much as a move on her since the man he'd called Harker left them alone. She doubted too many other hit men would be so considerate.

"I told him not to do anything rash," she felt the need to explain. "I don't know if it'll stop him, but I told him not to kill you."

He grinned tightly at what almost sounded like concern.

"I'll worry about Eliot when he gets here."

"Boss!"

They were interrupted by the main stable doors opening and a truck driving in, pulling a trailer. Emily was shocked to see a horse lying down inside, with what appeared to be bullet holes in its side and neck.

"Shit," she heard Quinn curse as he left her and stepped up to the trailer.

"Call Doc Sawyer. Get him out here now and tell him it's an emergency."

Emily followed Quinn to take a closer look. The poor animal looked in such pain, but didn't thrash as Quinn and two others moved around him. He looked almost—resigned; like he expected to die. She immediately stretched a hand out, tentatively rubbing its muzzle.

"Do you know whose animal this is?"

She was only barely listening as she focused on the horse, but Quinn had her attention. This wasn't his horse? She'd assumed that it had to be one of his, for him to be so concerned.

"Pete said it looked like one of Robertson's," Randall answered, "Said it looked like it had been there a couple of days."

"Hopefully Sawyer can confirm that. Make sure to get photos and call the police. This is the last time he's gonna hurt one of his horses."

"Someone did this to their own horse? On purpose?"

The question was practically whispered, but Quinn heard it and looked at her.

"If you want to go back to the house Kirsten, you—"

"No! I'm staying with him."

He decided not to argue with the expression on her face.

"Alright. Just make sure to stay out of the way while we work."

"You can save him, right?"

Quinn didn't answer her. He focused on what he could do for the injured horse until the vet showed up. This was the fourth animal in a year they'd found hurt, and it was going to be the last one. If the police didn't take care of it, he would.


	3. Chapter 3

"Kirsten? Are you awake?"

Quinn was starting to get worried. Kirsten still wasn't answering the door, and he'd been knocking for almost a full minute. If she'd only been asleep his knocking should have woken her. If anything happened to her before Eliot got here the older hitter would definitely kill him.

He opened the door very cautiously, ready to duck out if she was getting dressed. Instead of a half-naked woman, he found no woman. The room was empty.

"Shit."

There were several other phrases and words that came to mind, but Quinn decided to stick with just the one. He had to find her before Eliot showed up. He returned to his room long enough to slip on his sandals before heading out the door, barely remembering to grab the radio. She couldn't make it easy for him by being out on the porch, or even just in sight. Where would she have gone? He couldn't just start walking around the ranch looking for her; it was far too large. He had no idea when Spencer might show up. If he'd gotten on a plane he could be here any minute.

"Randall," he used the radio, admitting defeat.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Have everyone keep an eye out for my guest. She seems to have gone for a walk this morning."

"Boss, I found your lady. She's here at the stables. You're gonna want to see this."

Curious as to what Brody could find so humorous, he quickly made his way to the stable. Brody was waiting for him in front of the stall where they'd put the injured horse.

"What's going on?"

Brody hushed him and pointed to the stall. Quinn looked inside to see the horse lying down on its side, and Kirsten curled up against him, fast asleep. The animal raised his head and looked up at him, but made no move to dislodge his companion.

"I almost hate to wake her up."

"The rest of the boys will be here soon."

Quinn looked at the clock. He only had about five minutes before everyone started to trickle in, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't want to wake up to a lot of men staring at her. Keeping a close eye on the animal, Quinn carefully opened the door and stepped inside. The horse hadn't made any aggressive moves so far, but he was always wary of strange animals, especially those that had been misused y previous owners. The horse did no more than snort curiously as he stepped closer and gently shook Kirsten's shoulder.

"Alright, Kirsten, rise and shine. Time to get up now."

She swatted at his hand, batting it away.

"Come one, Sleeping Beauty. You had a perfectly good bed in the house, and you wanted to sleep with a horse. It's time to get moving."

He was fairly certain her mumbled response was a curse, and he fought the grin. She definitely wasn't a morning person. Still, he had other things to do than wait for her to get up on her own.

"Alright, Kirsten, let's go."

He bent down and took hold of her arms, pulling her to her feet before scooping her up. The badly aimed punch wasn't entirely unexpected, and he dodged it as he set her on her feet.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Me? You're the one who decided to sleep with livestock."

"What?"

She looked confused as she took in her surroundings and he decided to take pity on her.

"There's fresh coffee at the house."

"Thank God for that."

Quinn was thankful that she was at least fully clothed. They were bound to pass people on the way to the house, and there would be a lot of questions if she was in pajamas. The walk back to the house was made in silence, but it was at least a comfortable silence. As soon as they arrived Quinn directed his guest to the kitchen and the promised cup of coffee. He watched her eyes close as she moaned in appreciation.

"You do make a good cup of coffee, Mr. Quinn."

"You want any food to go with it? The oven's on, so I know Sarah brought something over."

He grabbed an oven mitt and opened the door, curious as to what Sarah managed to sneak in while he was out. He carefully lifted the foil that covered the pan and nearly moaned himself.

"What is it?"

"Home made cinnamon rolls."

He eyed the pan almost reverently as he pulled it out and set It on top of the stove. The smell of cinnamon filled the air, and icing dripped generously over the sides as he lifted them out and set them on a plate. Sarah's baked goods were practically a religious experience. After grabbing small plates and silverware, he offered first choice to Kirsten, who was eyeing them in anticipation.

"Do you mind telling me why you decided to take a midnight trip to the stables? Did you not feel safe in the house or something?"

"No, I just could sleep, and I just kind of found myself at the stable. And it was more like 2 am, not midnight."

"You could have gotten hurt wandering around like that. You're lucky that animal didn't attack you."

"I don't think he was terribly interested in attacking me. What's going to happen to him?"

"Sawyer's pretty sure he'll recover with no problem. He'll stay here. The cops won't take him back to his owner."

"You'll keep him?"

"I'll keep him."

"Good."

They ate in silence for several minutes before Quinn brought up a question that had been bugging him since he laid eyes on her.

"Do you know why they took you?"

He'd been thinking over it since they got on the plane. If Harker had just wanted to watch him rape a random woman, there were plenty on the island he could have grabbed. Kirsten had said her home was stateside. That was too far way to be accidental, even for Harker. No, Quinn was certain that Kirsten had been targeted for a reason; he just couldn't figure out what. He regretted asking when she immediately closed off.

"I have no idea," she answered before focusing all of her attention on her cinnamon roll and what was left of her coffee. He was sure she was lying, but decided he'd probably better leave it alone. It was really none of his business anyway.

The longer they sat, the harder it was for his guest to hide the increasing yawns, and he left her to get some sleep. He still needed to check on the cattle, and the sheep. The boys bringing in the injured horse yesterday had derailed all of his plans to check the rest of the ranch.

As soon as the unknown truck crossed into his property, Quinn was notified. Spencer had made it before noon.

"You want us to come with you, Boss?"

"Nah."

It wouldn't make any difference how many men he had with him, and he didn't want to give Eliot easy access to a gun. He took the jeep back to the house, to find Eliot standing on his porch waiting for him. Sarah was hovering nearby, an uncertain look on his face as she offered the stranger a glass of water. Eliot at least had the decency to wait until she went back inside before saying anything, after throwing a vicious punch.

"Where is she?"

"Hopefully still sleeping. It's been a long couple of days."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you for what you did?"

"I didn't want to hurt her, Eliot. I didn't have a choice."

The tackle off the porch was unexpected.

"From what I saw she was the one in handcuffs, not you!"

"What do you mean, from what you saw?"

"I'm talking about that damn video! I saw everything you did to her!"

That bastard had recorded—

"I knew I killed him too easily," Quinn muttered to himself. Harker definitely didn't suffer enough for what he'd done.

"Andrew Harker—you know him?"

"I've heard of him. What about him?"

"He's the one responsible for all this."

He held out a hand when Eliot looked like he might start punching again.

"I'm serious, Spencer. I was delivering a package to the man, and when I got to my room, she was there. He said he'd kill her if I didn't do what I did. He still tried to kill us both."

"Bullshit. If that's true, then why the hell didn't you just kill him then and get out? Why'd you rape her?!"

"We were in the Caymans in the middle of a freakin' monsoon! There was no getting off the island in that storm, and you know as well as I do that you don't start killing without an exit! I had to wait until the storm let up enough to get away before I could take care of him. I had nothin' to do with her abduction, I swear."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Does this look anything like the place you saw in that video? I've got no reason to lie, Spencer. I know you'll try to kill me regardless."

He had a point. Eliot stopped his advance on the younger man. Hardison had traced the source of the video to the Caymans; which gave him enough doubt to not automatically kill the other man. He wasn't ready to swallow Quinn's entire story, but the younger man wasn't stupid. Kidnapping Emily from Boston and taking her all the way to the Caymans in order to video an assault, only to bring her back her, made no sense at all. But still-

"Why would Harker take her? Kidnapping isn't his style. He's a third-rate middle man with delusions that he's someone."

"He was; past tense. I don't know why he took her. I didn't ask and he didn't volunteer the information. She said she had no idea why she was taken, but I think she was hiding something. You'd have to ask her."

Eliot just shook his head. He knew what she was hiding. What he didn't know was who found out, and with Harker dead, he couldn't get the answer.

"Take me to her. Now."

Quinn dusted himself off as he made the trek back up the steps. He was lucky he didn't break any bones from that fall. He preceded Eliot into the house, leading him through the hallways. The house might be a single story, but that just meant everything was a lot more spread out. He knocked briefly on the door to the guest bedroom before opening it. Eliot stepped past him and immediately reached out to shake the sleeping woman awake.

"C'mon Emily, wake up."

"Emily?"

She'd lied about her name. Eliot's nod only confirmed that. Well, Emily suited her a lot better than Kirsten did. She stirred slowly, blinking sleepily at the two men staring at her.

"Eliot? You're here already?"

"It's noon, sweetie. Time to get up."

"It can't be noon already."

"Oh yes it can. Wakey wakey."

"Bite me, Spencer."

"You know better than to issue an invitation like that. You ready to go?"

"Get out of here already. I'll be out in a minute."

"Quinn's gonna get out. You and I are gonna have a talk."

Quinn bit back a smile when he heard her groan and mumble that she hadn't had enough caffeine to deal with Eliot Spencer. At Eliot's glare he left the two alone. He was pretty sure Spencer was getting her version of events. It's what he would do.

XXXXXXX

It was nearly an hour later that he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He'd heard yelling, some crying, and he was pretty sure he'd have to patch more than one hole in the walls. The footfall was heavy, indicating that it was Spencer looking for him. He called out his location and waited for Spencer to step into the living room, hoping there wouldn't be a repeat of the front porch.

" 's that a hockey game?"

"Yeah. Never know when you'll have to fight on ice."

Did the smile mean something good, or did it mean that Spencer was going to try to kill him?

"She said you weren't one of the ones that took her. Makes me more inclined to believe you. But what you did—I don't just let that kind of thing go."

Quinn could understand that. He braced himself for what Spencer would do next. If the man took another swing, he had to not fight back.

"But I still owe you a favor, so I figure I'll let you keep breathing."

"I didn't want to hurt her, Spencer. If I could have seen another way out I would have taken it."

"I know."

"Is she okay? Physically?"

"She's a tough woman. She'll be okay, eventually. I'll get her to a doctor about that leg."

"The video?"

He didn't want to think about the damage that video could do.

"It's been taken care of."

"Good."

They continued their staring contest without any more words until the woman they'd been discussing joined them.

"Well, you're both still alive. I'm impressed."

"You ready?"

"I'm ready."

Quinn stood, following them through the house. He considered himself lucky that Eliot hadn't seriously tried to kill him, but he couldn't just let the woman walk out without saying anything. He ignored Eliot's glare as he opened the door for her.

"Look, Emily."

She froze at her real name, her foot slipping of the step into the truck.

"Nothing's gonna make up for what I did to you, and I don't expect it to. But if you ever need anything at all, and Eliot can't take care of it, you let me know."

She just nodded without saying anything and climbed into Eliot's truck. Quinn shut the door for her, and watched them drive off.


End file.
